


John Noirs At The End

by H3C70R



Category: John Dies at the End - David Wong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 22:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9569741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/H3C70R/pseuds/H3C70R
Summary: Another thing I did for this JDatE fandom week thing some people do on Tumblr.It's a solo John adventure that takes place during the period of "John Dies at the End" where Dave is living with Jennifer and isn't really in direct contact with John at all.Despite the title, it isn't really a 'noir-ish' story, but I purposefully tried to channel Raymond Chandler's stories about Phillip Marlowe with the writing style more so than the actual content, mixed with my own bastardized version of trying to write Jason Pargin's characters.Not sure if it really worked out, but I like the title and you can't do anything about it.





	

Windows XP login

username: JCheese

password: mydickhasitsownbasement

welcome.

Firefox started

http://www.thefifthwall.com/blog/admin/create/

Alright guys, I know the site has been a little slow lately. As some of you have speculated on the forums, my un-partnering with Dave has kind of slowed down the 'work' we do. 

Well, the work I do.

He got out of the wack-a-doo game, I can't blame him.

The point here is, I haven't really done many jobs recently, but I finally found something to get my ass off the couch and out kickin' ass.

I present to you, my own kickass Sherlock Holmes style, locked door murder case.

I got an e-mail from a man, formerly married, considering his wife had been "found dead" a few weeks back. I recognized the story from a newspaper I had slipped around some cans of beer I stole from the convenience store.

Don't get that idea. I can afford beer, I forgot my ID and they were about to close. I already had to go out of way for cigarettes now, I wasn't leaving empty handed.

Anyway, I recognized the story from the paper. He included a few details that weren't made public in his e-mail. Details that couldn't be ignored by anyone except the upstanding [Undisclosed] police department.

His loving and "beautiful" wife had been found decapitated with all her teeth pulled out and shoved in her sinuses. The door to the bedroom this took place in had been locked from the inside. The police apparently had to use a battering ram to get it open.

Once inside, they discovered the two windows were each locked, also from the inside, obviously, even the closet door had been locked from the inside, so the police had to ram that door as well, which... probably looked hilarious. They must been all like, WHAM WHAM WHAM SNAP BREAK ooh what a nice sundress.

I mean, who uses a battering ram in a bedroom.

Besides me, 

Ladies...

I digress.

The end of the husbands e-mail said the body of his wife looked like it was swimming in a pool of pure darkness. Like she was lying on top of a perfect body shaped hole she should have been falling through. Once he went downstairs to let the police in, and went back up, the pool of darkness had disappeared.

He said he was out of options. I was the last name on his list.

Not the world's great confidence booster by the way. Thanks guy, I'm the last person you can possibly think to call to handle this. In your opinion, I'm the worst there is, at whatever it is you think I do.

In the words of an idol of mine, "This job would be great if it wasn't for the fucking customers."

I still feel for the guy. I go outside, light up a smoke, and ponder my plan of attack.

First thing I do is call Dave.

As I expected, voicemail.

Cigarette extinguished, I go inside for another beer, and ponder my plan of attack.

After I finished my beers, I decided some Wayne Gretzkey 3D Hockey was in order. It would help me ponder my plan of attack.

Finally, I woke up after having passed out on the couch. Ready, with my plan of attack.

I get in the Caddy. Bible-bat, boombox, crossbow, the works, all in the trunk. If anyone can get this shadow person, or shadow people, to show themselves, it's me. 

And if anyone can possibly, maybe, take one or more of them down, it's me. 

This guy needs my help. Especially if they come back before I get there.

After an uneventful ride over to the guy's place, I pull up in the driveway and see he's waiting for me on the porch. Once I was out of the car on his lawn, I lit a cigarette. He met me halfway to the front door and started talking.

"Hey, thank you for coming by. I didn't know where else to turn. I don't really, um, believe in this 'stuff', but, I just don't know what to do anymore. Thank you, seriously."

"Alright, calm down, man. Before I go in there, I have to know a few things. Have there been any other 'strange' occurrences, either before or after your wife's unfortunate passing?"

"Nothing. No lights flickering, no cold spots, no sulfur smell."

"You watch too much Supernatural. I mean like shadows moving with nothing casting them, lost time, people watching you through your television, and... also lights flickering..."

"Still no, I'm sorry. All I have is that... shadow that was under her. I know it was there, it was broad daylight, the curtains were drawn, I know I saw it."

"Dude, I believe you. I just need to go back over to my ride, get a few... tools."

I hurried back, popped the trunk.

Decisions, decisions.

The bible bat wouldn't do physical damage to the shadows, but the scripture might do something?

Bring it.

Leave the chainsaw, too showy, leave the gasoline, if need be, there will be a way to start a fire in the house.

Boombox.

Bring it.

I walked past the man, and into his home. Up the steps, down the hall, right to the bedroom door.

He finally shuffled up behind me, immediately looking startled.

"I left this door open when I came down to let you in."

Oh shit.

I tried the knob.

Locked.

Of course.

"Well, mister, it is your lucky day, since I have. This!"

I wielded the bible-bat with all the aplomb one should muster to show off such an extravagant, nail filled thing.

After letting him bask for a moment, I began pounding the shit ever-loving shit out of his bedroom door.

Like, Mark McGwire all up in this motherfucker.

After a few minutes, I had gained entry.

And of course, there it was. 

Or rather, there they were.

I ran headlong into the group of them. Hard to count how many exactly when they're huddled that close. You could count the number of eyes I guess, but I didn't have time for that shit.

Swinging randomly with the bat did absolutely nothing.

The door slammed shut behind me.

I slammed against the shut door.

My bat splintered into a million pieces in midair

My boombox was fine; they just made the batteries fly out the window.

Considerate of them.

I wrestled against their psychic strength with all I could give; it was no match for what they were dishing out.

One advanced on me, it got close enough that the front inch of its entire shapeless form actually merged with the front of my body. It communicated with me mentally.

"We want the one you know as David Wong."

"I don't know where he is, you fuck-stick"

"We know that. But you will lead us to him."

"Fuck you. I'll literally fuck you right in the shadowhole before I do that. Eat my magnificent dick."

"There will be danger soon. Grave danger for this entire town. An opportunity will present itself where you will have to take the soy sauce again. It will be your only option to save one life, and then many others. It will be how you lead us to him. You will allow us our victory."

Before I could continue my tirade of well-crafted insults, they vanished. I was slumped on the floor, every muscle aching from the strain put on them.

I stood up, opened the door, and told the man his worries were over, the shadows used his wife as a means of attracting me.

He protested about his worries not being over.

I told him a closed casket should fix the rest of his problems.

I got my boombox, went downstairs and out to my Caddy.

Dialed David's cell number.

Voicemail.

Idiot needed to pick up his phone and help me save the world.

He still hasn't picked up, and I haven't had to take soy sauce again. So for right now things still seem as normal as they can be in [Undisclosed].


End file.
